half sours, five days in

My clothes, clean and dirty, are in a heap on the floor.  They are completely blocking the entrance to my closet.  The door cannot be opened without pushing the clothes aside.  I would not resort to this system if my room were not so small.  I've come up with a rule that says you should have at least five square feet of personal space for every year you've been alive. I am violating my own rule in the name of pickle.  This morning I plunged out of bed and onto the pile of clothes, read some of Sandor Ellix Katz's book, Wild Fermentation, and decided that I had better check on my half sours.  I escorted them into the closet when the heat wave set down upon the valley like a Big Flaming Sleeping Pill two days ago.  Fermenting cucumbers, too, need to beat the heat.  

         There they are, swimming in their brine, cooling by the pool

The up-shot of this heat wave is that my closet smells like dill pickle instead of mildew and old-house smell.  The pickles look good, but they aren't quite ready.  They are still somewhat pale.  But look at those peppers!  Gloriously yellow!  And I bet they're crunchy, too.